


Bipolar and Depression by Amber Schweinberg

by its_just_me_lucifer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_just_me_lucifer/pseuds/its_just_me_lucifer
Summary: A poem by me. It's about living with and fighting depression and bipolar. Plz don't move to another sight. All rights reserved, I own this work. This poem is property of Amber Schweinberg©.
Kudos: 3





	Bipolar and Depression by Amber Schweinberg

**Author's Note:**

> Hope someone enjoys this.....  
> This is literally me bearing my heart and soul so plz be nice.

Bipolar and Depression by Amber Schweinberg  
Bipolar is a prison.  
I’m locked away in my own head.  
Bipolar controls me.  
I’m his puppet.  
And he holds the strings.  
I can only do what he wants me to.  
I can’t choose to be happy.  
I can’t choose to be sad.  
It’s all up to him.  
My whole life is in his hands.  
He beats me ‘till I’m bruised.  
Until I’m begging him to stop.  
And he has a friend.  
Her name is Depression.  
Depression waits.  
She waits for Bipolar to finish bruising my heart.  
She waits for me to hit rock bottom.  
Then she attacks.  
She lacerates and mutilates and digs into my soul.  
Until I'm suffering in anguish.  
But she doesn’t stop there.  
She keeps going and going ‘till I’m wishing for death.  
Until the pain spills down my cheeks.  
Each tear I shed like the fire in my mind and my soul.  
Burning scars on my heart.  
She laughs as all the emotions pour out.  
She laughs as my skin sizzles under the heat of my own self hatred.  
She tells me that I deserve the pain.  
She plants thoughts in my mind.  
It’s not worth it.  
I should just end it all.  
She tells me to cut my own skin so the pain in my heart will go away.  
I never listen to her.  
But each time I ignore her she gets louder.  
She screams at me to just do it.  
She says no one will care.  
That no one actually loves me.  
She says that they just pity me.  
That I'm so fucking pathetic that everyone feels sorry for me.  
She rips my heart out of my chest and giggles as she crushes it in her hands.  
She stands over me screaming profanities as I gather up the pieces.  
I try to get away.  
But she captures me and grips me tight.  
She tells me that I don't matter.  
That the world will be better without me.  
She tells me to tie that rope.  
To swallow those pills.  
Or to let my own blood spill.  
She whispers the same sentence in my ear.  
No one will miss you.  
No one will miss you.  
NO ONE WILL MISS YOU!!  
But I still don’t listen.  
She gets even louder until all I can hear is her bellowing voice.  
She shrieks and pounds on my skull.  
She walks through my heart leaving everlasting scars in her wake.  
Sometimes I can’t even get out of bed.  
She causes me to question everything.  
Do they actually love me?  
Do they actually want me?  
Then Bipolar comes back.  
And the cycle starts all over again.  
The pain gets worse each time.  
They get meaner.  
They come back stronger.  
My days consist of tears.  
I’m constantly picking up the pieces of my shattered soul.  
They abuse me until I’m incapcitated.  
I fall victim to their manipulation.  
They conveniently hand me a knife when I’m at my weakest.  
I break down and finally do what they want.  
They leave me in a river of my own tears and watch me drown in sorrow.  
It’s quite funny actually.  
They work hand in hand to ruin me.  
To ruin my life.  
They control my mind.  
They control my body.  
The doctors shove medication down my throat.  
And sometimes it doesn't even work.  
I swallow pill after pill hoping it’ll help.  
And I feel hopeless when they don’t.  
I don’t know how much more of this abuse I can take.  
It feels like I’m suffering in endless agony and occasionally I do want to die.  
But, I will not let them win.  
They can beat me and torture me and injure me all they want.  
I won’t break.  
I won’t give in.  
I can do this.  
I’m stronger than them.  
I am strong enough to beat this.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel me. Perhaps I'll make this a series of poems.


End file.
